Draco Malfoy: Demon Wand Maker of Diagon Alley
by Lycan Lover
Summary: A twist on Sweeney Todd! Draco Malfoy returns home after 7 years in Azkaban to find that his wife was seduced by the horrid Judge Weasely. Guess who? His child, Ginny Weasely is taken into his care. Draco comes back to seek his wife, Hermione...
1. No place like London

**Hello everyone I'm back again with another HP story! Yeah! This is a twist on one of my favourite films Sweeney Todd. Basically all of the characters are replaced with Harry Potter ones instead...with Draco as the Demon Wand Maker of Diagon Alley what could happen?**

**# Itallics are sung by the way.**  
**Please don't hate me!**

**Draco: Demon Wand Maker of Diagon Alley**

**A twist on Sweeney Todd! Draco Malfoy returns home after 7 years in Azkaban to find that his wife was seduced by the horrid Judge Weasely. Guess who? His child, Ginny Weasely is taken into his care. Draco goes back to his old home to seek revenge...**

* * *

**Chapter 1: No Place Like London**

Smog clouds cover the skies over dreary London town. A ship appears through the fog, gliding gracefully across the black waters. Harry Potter has just arrived back from years of service abroad, he smiled at the grim picture: a new life.

"_I have sailed the world  
beheld its wonders  
from the Dardanelles,  
to the mountains of Peru,  
But there's no place like London!  
I feel home again...  
I could hear the city bells ring...  
Whatever would I do?  
No there's_..."

"No theres no place like London." A new voice hisses from the fog. Harry turns sharply and smiles.

"Mr. Malfoy, sir?" A man with snow white hair comes forward, cold silver eyes frozen on the city.

"_You are young...  
Life has been kind to you...  
You will learn.  
There's a hole in the world like a great black pit  
and the vermin of the world inhabit it  
and its morals aren't worth what a pig could spit  
and it goes by the name of London.  
At the top of the hole sit the privileged few  
Making mock of the vermin in the lonely zoo  
turning beauty to filth and greed...  
I too have sailed the world and seen its wonders,  
for the cruelty of men is as wonderous as Peru  
but there's no place like London!"  
_

"Sir?"

'Tis here we go our seperate ways. Farewell Hary. I will not soon forget the good ship bountiful, nor the young man who saved my life." Harry blushes at him.

"There's no cause to thank me for that, sir. It would have been a poor Christian indeed who would have spotted you pinching and tossing on that raft and not given the alarm."

"There's many a Christian would've done just that and not lost a wink's sleep over it either." A sneer forms on Draco's face, a familiar sight to the young sailor. The boat comes into the dock. Figures rush off in different directions. Draco Malfoy moves swiftly away from the boat and towards a dark alley. Pulling the heavy bag closer to his body Harry runs after the man. A beggar women calls out to them but is ignored.

"Pardon sir, but haven't you a coin for the poor women?"

"No."

"Very well sir." The boy looks away sadly.

"I beg your indulgance, boy, my mind is far from easy. For in the once familiar streets I feel a chill of ghostly shadows everywhere. Forgive me."

"There is nothing to forgive."

Draco truns sharply and extends his hand.

"Farewell." The hand is shaken, Harry grabbed his sleeve before the man tried to escape into the darkness.

"Mr. Malfoy, before we part..."

"What is it?"

"I have honored my promise never to question you. Whatever brought you to that sorry shipwreck is your affair and yet, over many weeks of our voyage home, I've come to think of you as a friend, and if trouble lies ahead for you in London, if you need any help...or money."

"No!" Draco turned, eyes ablaze and stares at the darkness. A great sadness grew there and his shoulder's slumped.

"_There was a wizard and his wife  
and she was beautiful...  
a foolish wizard and his wife.  
She was his reason for his life...  
and she was beautiful, and she was virtuous.  
And he was nieve.  
There was another man who saw  
that she was beautiful...  
A biased vulture of the law  
who, with a gesture of his claw  
removed the wizard from his plate!  
And there was nothing but to wait!  
And she would fall!  
So soft!  
So young!  
So lost and oh so beautiful!"_

Harry gulped before speaking.

"The lady, sir...did she succumb?"

"Ah, that was many years ago...I doubt if anyone would know_. _Now leave me, Antony. There is somewhere I must go, something I must find out. Now, and alone."

"But surely we will meet again before I am off to Plymouth?"

Draco turned his head.

"If you want you may well find me around Fleet Street. I wouldn't wander." Harry nodded and smiled shaking his hand again. Draco walked alone down the dark streets, the sneer grew into a snarl.

"_There's a hole in the world like a great black pit  
and it's filled with people who are filled with shit!  
And the vermin of the world inhabit it!"_

* * *

He eventually found himself on the familiar crowded street of Diagon Alley. Men in large top hats and ladies in elegant dresses past him never once looking back. Draco strode towards an old looking building with a large set of windows one the first floor. A rusty old sign hung above the door and curtained windows.

'Parkinson's Pies '

The door swung open slowly with a clunk.

A women with short black hair peered up from behind a large counter covered in flour and pots filled with a disgusting looking lumpy liquid. Her dark eyes widened and she gasped.

"A costumer!  
_Wait! What's yer rush? What's yer hurry?  
You gave me such a-  
Fright. I thought you was a ghost.  
Half a minute, can'tcher?  
Sit! Sit ye down!  
_Sit!_  
All I meant is that I  
Haven't seen a customer for weeks.  
Did you come here for a pie, sir?  
Do forgive me if my head's a little vague-  
_Ugh!  
What is that?" Her rolling pin landed on a funny - looking beetle. Draco scowled at the invented called a pie in front of him.

"Ugh." He whispered as a beetle crawled out.

"_But you'd think we had the plague-  
From the way that people-  
keep avoiding-  
No you don't!  
Heaven knows I try, sir!  
But there's no one comes in even to inhale-  
Right you are, sir. would you like a drop of ale?  
No denying times is hard, sir-  
Even harder than  
The worst pies in London.  
Only lard and nothing more-  
Is that just revolting?  
All greasy and gritty,  
It looks like it's molting,  
And tastes like-  
Well, pity  
A woman alone  
With limited wind  
And the worst pies in London!  
Ah sir,  
Times is hard. Times is hard." _She threw the knifeabove his head and hit a beetle crawling next to his ear. Draco raised an eyebrow taking a swig of the ale. It helped to calm his nerves.

"Isn't that a room up there over the shop? If times are so hard, why don't you rent it out? That should bring in something."

She looked at him as if he were half mad!

"Up there? Oh, no one will go near it. People think it's haunted. You see, years ago, something happened up there. Something not very nice."

"Oh?"

"Yes, a wand maker and his wife. He was beautiful, a real artist!" She looked at Draco as he glared at the floorboards. An idea hit her.

"_He had this wife, you see,  
Pretty little thing.  
Silly little nit  
Had her chance for the moon on a string-  
Poor thing, poor thing.  
There were these two, you see,  
Wanted her like mad,  
One of 'em a judge,  
T'other one his beadle.  
Every day they'd nudge  
And they'd wheedle.  
Still she wouldn't budge  
From her needle.  
Too bad. Pure thing.  
So they merely shipped the poor blighter off south, they did,  
Leaving her with nothing but grief and a year-old kid.  
Did she use her head even then? Oh no, God forbid!  
Poor fool.  
Ah, but there was worse yet to come-  
Poor thing._  
Ginevra, that was the baby's name.  
Pretty little Ginevra..."

Draco looked up.

"Go on."

"My, but you do like a good story, don't you?"  
"_Well, Beadle calls on her, all polite,  
Poor thing, poor thing.  
The judge, he tells her, is all contrite,  
He blames himself for her dreadful plight,  
She must come straight to his house tonight!  
Poor thing, poor thing.  
Of course, when she goes there,  
Poor thing, poor thing,  
They're havin' this ball all in masks.  
There's no one she knows there,  
Poor dear, poor thing,  
She wanders tormented, and drinks,  
Poor thing.  
The judge has repented, she thinks,  
Poor thing.  
"Oh, where is Judge Turpin?" she asks.  
He was there, all right-  
Only not so contrite!  
She wasn't no match for such craft, you see,  
And everyone thought it so droll.  
They figured she had to be daft, you see,  
So all of 'em stood there and laughed, you see.  
Poor soul!  
Poor thing!"_

Draco leaps up in a rage and screams.

"Would no one have mercy on her?"

Pansy Parkinson looks up as if he were a god.

"So it is you—Draco Malfoy."

He stood silently staring out at the window of the shop. He looked paler than usual, ill. Pansy Got up and patted his shoulder. The man jumped away.

"Oh, you poor thing. You poor thing. Wait! See! When they come for the little girl, I hid 'em. I thought, who knows? Maybe the poor silly blighter'll be back again someday and need 'em. Cracked in the head, wasn't I? Times as bad as they are, I could have got five, maybe ten quid for 'em, any day. See? You can be a wand maker again."

Draco stared down with gleaming eyes at the beautiful tools.

* * *

**Well? What do you think? Sorry if it's all a little complicated, if you need to watch the musical and comment please!**

**Love you guys!**


	2. Ginevra

Hello! It's me again! I actually have time for updating, can you believe it? Anyway, I thought since I'd started this story I'd at least finish it. So here you go!

**P.S. I decided to cut some scenes form Sweeney Todd to make it more interesting, enjoy! **

**Chapter 2: Ginevra **

* * *

With his sack securely at his side Harry sat down on the broken bench by the side of the busy London street. Horse-drawn carts rushed past and men hurried by muttering and pulling their coats closer to trap the heat. Harry had missed London, the busy exciting noise and dramas. He pulled out his little book and decided to read for a while, to pass the time. Then the most beautiful sound fluttered out of a nearby window and caressed his ears.

_Green finch, and linnet bird,  
Nightingale, blackbird,  
How is it you sing?  
How can you jubilate  
sitting in cages  
never taking wing?  
Outside the sky waits  
beckoning!  
Beckoning!  
Just beyond the bars...  
How can you remain  
staring at the rain  
maddened by the stars?  
How is it you sing  
anything?  
How is it you sing? _

A young girl, about 17 years old, with long flowing fire-red hair smiled down at him from the top window of the large forbidding house. Next to her sat a small bird cage. Harry, never seeing anything so magnificent, gaped up. The girl blushed and turned her head away still smiling. Harry leapt up and listened as she sang the rest of her song.

"Arms! Arms! For a miserable woman. On a miserable chilly morning." Surprised he turned to face a poor old beggar woman. She had her wrinkled hand up near his face. Seeing no harm in the situation he placed two sickles into her hand. She whisked them away. "Thank you kindly sir!"

Harry smiled down at her. "Can you tell me, who lives in that house?"

The woman's face became drawn and fearful. "That's the great Judge Weaseley's house that is with his young ward, Ginevra and her mother. You best not go looking for mischief there." Just as Harry was about to ask why she fled down the street asking for more kindly offers. Huffing, he turned and collected his sack and book. Eyes lingered on the window where the girl sat smiling at him. A second woman appeared, older but very similar, her brown hair twirled up in a twist. The two of them whispered and much to Harry's disappointed they left quickly. His frowned returned and shoulders sank.

_I feel you,  
Ginevra  
I feel you.  
I was half convinced I'd waken,  
Satisfied enough to dream you.  
Happily, I was mistaken,  
Ginevra!  
I'll steal you,  
Ginevra,  
I'll steal you.  
Do they think that walls can hide you?  
Even now I'm at your window.  
I am in the dark beside you,  
Buried sweetly in your yellow hair.  
I feel you,  
Ginevra,  
And one day  
I'll steal you.  
Till I'm with you then,  
I'm with you there,  
Sweetly buried in your yellow hair._

As Harry walks past the great mahogany door it opens in a flash. In fright he clutches at his wand inside his coat pocket. A man with striking red hair and a stony face glares back at him.

* * *

"The five knuts please." Expressionless, Malfoy holds out his hand as an Italian looking man places the money into his open palm.

"To the man who matched my duelling skills."

"Mr. Zabini, if I were you I wouldn't bother conning customers anymore." With a single nod Mr. Zabini left dragging behind him a small boy with blond hair cursing in Italian. Pansy chuckles and pats Draco's arm.

"Told you so."

"Indeed."

When they got back to the shop Draco sat in his room looking out at the busy people bustling around. It sickened him. A family pushed a baby in a pram smiling and laughing in the midday sun. His stomach turned. With a small ping the door opened to reveal Pansy holding a tray of tea.

"Thought you might be thirsty Mr. M."

Draco didn't take his eyes from the window.

"No, thank you. I have work to do."

Pansy huffed and sat down in the chair across from him.

"You can't mope forever. Mr. D? Are you listening to me?"

"Of course." He whispers. "Why didn't I think of it before?" He leaps up and goes to his desk. In the draw lay thousands of old papers withered by time. Pansy walks over suspiciously and watches as he blows off the dust of one particular sheet of yellow paper. Her eyes widen.

"Mr. D you can't!" She gasps. Draco does nothing seeing her horrified expression. 

"What would you do Mrs. Parkinson? Tell me."

Pansy said nothing confirming his idea. In his hand was the key to his revenge, his lifeline in two words.

"Mr. Malfoy! Mr. Malfoy!" A bang sounded from the door and a weary Harry ran in surprising the two of them. Blood dripped from his mouth and one eye was a deep purple from bruising. Pansy shrieked in surprise.

"What is it?" Draco asks coldly.

"Oh you poor thing!" Pansy croons. 

"Please, sir, you have to help me. He's got her locked up in that house. And the mother too! The Judge won't let them leave so I need your help please!" 

Pansy hands him a cloth for his cut and helps him to sit down. He takes it smiling and takes in a deep breath. A cord was struck in Draco for the first time.

"Ginevra." He turned form them towards the window. Eyes canning the crowds again, he began to form a plan. Pansy looked between the two men confused.

"Mr. D?" She whispers.

"Hermione."

"Mr. Malfoy you have to help, please?" Harry pleaded to the man's turned back. Draco went quiet, staring out at the world as if it loathed him. Images of colourful smiles and turning figures graced by the morning sun greeted him like old friends. He grasped at them, especially the image of a beautiful woman with long curly brown hair. Her eyes shone and sparkled only for him. But she was soon pulled away.

"Yes."

"Pardon?" Harry whispered, rising from his seat. Draco turned slightly, made his voice louder, clearer.

"I will help you."

"Oh, thank you! Thank you Mr. Malfoy!" Grinning, Harry fled the room. Pansy quirked an eyebrow and moved closer to the man frozen in his memories.

"Seems you got what you wanted Mr. M."

"So it will seem." He twirled the arm length piece of willow around in his fingers. The tools sat waiting on his desk, gleaming up at him. He had work to do.

* * *

Fidgeting fingers drummed on the leather case of an old book. A woman in her late thirties sat near the shelf of a thousand books. Her wavy brown hair was pinned up in the fashion of the age whilst the black dress clearing reminded the world of her sorrows.

Hermione sighed. Ginevra, her daughter, sat near the window gazing out almost hopefully into the murky London sky. She was a dreamer that girl, and she treasured it. Though her age and lack of experience meant she could be prey for men. How she despised them.

Ginevra began to hum softly in her sweet tone. Hermione smiled.

"Is there something of great interest outside today?"

The girl turned and blushed. Her head lowered as her mother chuckled quietly.

"Forgive me mother. I am distracted by the beauty of the day."

"Indeed, morning's like these are so rare nowadays." Hermione thought back to her better days. Ones filled with smiles and sunlight. Now each day was a cycle of torment and longing for it to end. Her sorrow didn't go unnoticed by Ginevra. She turned towards her mother and smiled hoping to cause some cheer.

"Mother, perhaps we could go for a walk? We could ask my uncle –"

"No." She answered all too quickly. Ginevra's head dropped letting the red curtain cover her face. "Forgive my outburst, Ginny dear, I am tired. At present, it would be best not to see your _uncle_." Ginevra nodded and continued to stare out at the world as it passed by.

Suddenly, she got up and went into her pocket. A shining golden key winked at Hermione before her daughter opened the window and threw it into the air. Curiosity overwhelmed her and she rose to see what was happening. A tall, young man picked up the gift and stared longing back up at them. A small smile graced Hermione's face watching the man race off down the street.

"Are you displeased with me mother?"

Hermione shook her head.

"No, my girl."

Ginevra smiled and, collecting her things, trotted off and out of the door. Alone, Hermione took in the London streets and its cloudy skies. Something had changed the day her husband was taken. Her heart cracked a little more at thought of her beloved.

Just then the doors burst open revealing the figure of a pale, sickly looking man with fiery red hair. Judge Weaseley wore an expressionless face. He disgusted her so much. Without a second glance Hermione place her book back of the shelf. But before she could escape the vulture's clutches an arm locked her in place.

"You still were black I see." His voice drawled, it made her skin crawl. Hermione kept her eyes far from him.

"Yes, my lord."

"You should wear one of those dresses I bought for you." She noticed his face was getting closer and she froze, unable to gain distance.

"I still mourn, my lord." His breath tickled her neck and soon she felt ill.

"You have been in mourning for the place 16 years Hermione."

Anger flooded her system and her brown eyes flicked to his wolfish ones. Defiantly she tore herself away from him.

"Do not address me so informally sir."

As she tried to leave a claw-like grip encaged her upper arm forcing her to turn. She had no fear for this man, only hatred. The judge's face crept closer to hers and breath hit her sharply.

"I may do as I please, or have you forgotten our bargain?"

That damn thing! She thought. She wanted to cry with the amount of times she had regretted that decision, but it was for the best. To save another. Without it her daughter would have been forced into an asylum. Herself left to rot on the filthy streets. Though now she felt worse than some poor beggar crying for money.

The judge pressed a filthy kiss to her neck and, wearing a satisfied smirk, stormed off leaving the woman to break down into tears.

* * *

**So? That's it for now I guess. Sorry to all those Ron fans out there, but someone had to play the role!**

**Hope you enjoyed it!**

**Look for more soon.**

**Please review :p**


End file.
